Painted Illusions
by Limitbreaker
Summary: While chaos breaks out after the World Cup, Draco Malfoy's world suddenly stands still – and that's Bill Weasley's fault. Slash.
1. Protection from the Storm

Draco Malfoy could not help but feeling disgusted at the sight of those Muggles hovering in the air. But was he disgusted because the men in dark robes and masks humiliated innocent people or because the possibility that his father had sunken that low was extremely high?

Draco looked over his shoulder where he could watch Potter disappearing with his friends behind the trees. What was St. Potter thinking? That Draco would be proud of his father disgracing himself with behaving like a barbarian from the 16th century? He wished that his father would be here by his side right now, sneering at those Muggles and ensuring Draco that disgust was not what he should feel right now. And he was worried about his mother.

Narcissa had woken him up and told him to stay here, before she had disappeared in the rows of tents, searching for her husband.

Draco pulled some branches apart to enhance his view. Flames burst out of a near tent, trying to swallow another one to the right and far closer to Draco. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the dark shapes of people approaching him from the left. Draco gulped, unsure what to do. His mother had told him to let the tempest howl and hide in the safety of the woods, but it did not look this safe anymore with men approaching him and flames trying to burn him, not to forget that behind him Potter and his friends waited for him.

Draco stepped out from behind the branches. He would search for his mother and tell her to bring him home. Father was able to look after himself.

Draco tried not to look at the men, who were talking… no, yelling at each other. Quickly, he walked over to the burning tent, not expecting the flames to feel so hot on his skin, although he was in a safe distance. Behind him, the yelling grew louder, otherwise Draco would have taken a closer look at the masses of flames hungrily devouring the tent.

It took him a while to realise that the yelling was addressed to him. When he turned around, long arms of fire were reaching to the opposite tent and blocking his view. Draco stood still and tried to listen closer, but over the screams he could not understand a single thing. And the orange and red fire in front of him was also crackling and rustling.

Draco made a step backwards – directly into the firing line of someone's wand. A flash of red light flew past him, only inches away from his eyes. Draco was startled, not expecting those men to aim at _him_. He turned his head just to see another red light coming into his direction.

Everything around him slowed down, the yelling and screaming drowned by the rush of blood in his ears. Something grabbed him from behind; Draco gasped, his eyes widened and his heart was beating in every vein when he slumped with his back flat on the ground.

"Stay down," a rough voice told him. Long hair was brushing over Draco's forehead when the man leant over him, screaming at someone opposite from them. "It's just a child, you bloody idiots!" Then he looked down at Draco and his until then angry expression became softer. "You're okay?"

Draco was certainly not okay. Everything but that other face was a blur, voices mingled to incomprehensible sounds, and that fire in the background was causing such an unbearable heat that Draco was sweating. Or was it the flaming red hair of the man? He could not make up the difference, but found a saving anchor from his confusion when he looked into the pale blue eyes, like the purest water of an untouched spring.

"Where are your parents?" The man talked slow, or was it Draco's mind perverting reality? "Don't you speak English?"

Draco blinked. "I…" As his view became clearer again, Draco noticed a green light illuminating the sky. His eyes grew big again and he grabbed the man's arm, hastily sitting up. He was shaking when the skull in the sky sharpened its form, a tongue rolling out of the mouth and moving like a snake.

The man followed his gaze and gasped at the sight of the Dark Mark. Draco tried to rise to his feet, but strong hands grabbed his shoulders, keeping Draco from running away in panic. Something hot dripped on his arm. Draco tore his gaze from the Dark Mark and stared at the blood filling a deep cut in the man's arm, literally floating over his skin and dripping onto Draco's arm, his robe and pyjama shirt.

"You… you…" His stuttering was pathetic, especially compared to the other's tranquillity.

"Just a cut. Don't worry." He offered Draco a smile. "Listen. I want you to go into the woods and hide there. I'll be with you in –"

"Bill? Bill, we need you here!"

The man, Bill, looked away and his smile disappeared. He was obviously unsure if it was wrong to leave Draco alone now, having a lot reason to consider him a helpless child.

Draco loosened his grip around the injured arm and when Bill looked at him, he shoved him roughly away.

"I can look after myself," he snapped, stumbled to his feet and hurried away, hoping to find his father safely at their tent and ready to sneer at him for fearing the Dark Mark… and for wanting to cling to another man for protection of it.


	2. A Malfoy's Gratitude

His saviour was a Weasley. Very early in the mornings Draco had to cope with the humiliating realisation that it was indeed a Weasley for whom he had felt thankful. He should have known it right away; the red hair, the freckles and… well, Bill's outfit had definitely not been worn by someone else before.

Draco watched Bill packing his things from a safe distance – also a safe distance from his parents. He did not want to see how pathetic Lucius Malfoy looked when he suffered from a hangover. Narcissa could give Lucius all the pity he wanted.

Draco dithered about walking over to that ridiculously small tent to thank Bill as long as no other Weasley was within hearing. Not that he wanted to sink that low, but it would be his revenge for Lucius totally forgetting about him last night. It had taken him hours to find his parents again, both of them still ashen because of the sight of the Dark Mark, shaking and sweating in a way Draco just wanted to forget.

Draco didn't understand why Lucius was afraid of the Dark Mark. Whatever story Lucius had told him, it always was about how extraordinarily fond the Dark Lord had been of him, so there shouldn't be a reason to be afraid of the Mark. Even if the Dark Lord was still alive, why should his return frighten Lucius? Wouldn't that be something to celebrate?

A loud voice from the right made Draco look up. He discovered his father walking through the rows of tents, followed by a smaller wizard who was eager to listen to Lucius's lies where he had been during the torture of those Muggles and the appearance of the Dark Mark.

Draco snorted and tore his gaze away. He felt a little weird because he was now stubbornly staring at Bill Weasley taking off his pyjama shirt. Draco looked away to watch his father approaching him quickly after spotting him in the shadows. He didn't want to listen to any speech that he shouldn't walk around here alone after everything what happened. Lucius had disappointed him and Draco wanted him to suffer at least a bit.

His eyes shifted back to Bill on their own. Draco tilted his head, watching fascinatingly how all those muscles in the broad shoulders flexed during Bill's fruitless search for a new shirt in his bag. Why was he doing that outside where everybody could watch?

The long ponytail of red hair caught his eyes, then the fang earring and when his gaze travelled down to the shredded jeans, Draco smiled mischievously. Bill Weasley was everything Lucius loathed and that was enough for Draco to make his decision.

He slipped out of the shadows from an abandoned tent and straight into his father's view. But before Lucius could call for him, Draco had already reached Bill.

"Excuse me?"

Bill turned around. He looked tired, but still offered Draco a smile when he recognised him. "Look at that… The Malfoy boy." Bill's smile widened at Draco's puzzled look. "Ron mentioned that you were hiding in the woods and well…" He reached out a hand and patted Draco's hair. "The rest I could guess."

Draco was a little startled at this warm greeting and quite embarrassed because of the hand trying to ruffle his hair. He stepped backwards.

"So, what're you doing here?" Bill reached back into his bag, pulling a white shirt out. An extremely tight shirt. Draco stared shamelessly at the outline of Bill's torso underneath the thin fabric. "Still searching for your parents?"

"I… no…" Draco shook his head and forced himself to look up. This was harder than he had thought, even with the sight of a perplexed Lucius out of the corner of his eyes. Draco gulped. "I wanted to th-thank you," he said hastily before his father could come closer. Lucius froze on the spot and Draco would have smirked had he not remembered Bill in front of him.

"Oh, that's… You don't have to," Bill said. "Although I feel honoured to hear that from you. Must've been hard."

"I don't know what your brother told you about me, but you saved my life," Draco said loud enough for his father to hear. "And I am grateful for this. I just…"

"I'm not going to tell Ron anything," Bill said in a low voice and winked at Draco. "Don't worry."

This was not exactly what Draco had wanted to ask, but it still made him smile. He pointed at Bill's arm and the provisional bandage wrapped around it. "How's your arm?"

Bill leant down to whisper into Draco's ear: "Not worse than a scratch by a Hippogriff."

Draco blushed. He didn't know why it embarrassed him that Bill knew about his childish behaviour last year, but bright pink cheeks were definitely not the impression he wanted to leave behind.

"I think your father's waiting for you."

Draco had completely forgotten about Lucius. When he looked over his shoulder the usual cold eyes stared back at him. Not a hint of disapproval or guilt visible, just expectation that Draco would immediately follow him wherever he wanted to go without even asking.

Draco turned his attention back to Bill. "I would rather not owe you something…"

"You don't," Bill said and somehow this rejection of his gratitude felt more unpleasant than blushing so obviously.

"But I… you saved my life. I want to thank you properly."

Bill smiled at this determination. "I may take you up on it some time." He flicked his fingers against Draco's forehead before heading for the tent.

Draco rubbed the spot on his forehead and dared to smile, but only until he turned around to his father. For Lucius he had nothing but cold glances since this almost unbearable disappointment. And he hoped that having to watch his son thanking a Weasley would help Lucius realising his mistake.


	3. Forced Rejection

When Draco saw Bill again it was on the day of the third task. Draco noticed him immediately between Potter and that fat mother-weasel, walking over the grounds of Hogwarts. He hadn't changed at all over the last year.

The tall man caught his eyes like a flame a moth. And Draco knew he would burn himself if he dared to come closer now. A Malfoy searching the closeness to a Weasley was absolutely pathetic. He had only allowed himself to break this rule to take revenge on his father. But since then Lucius had given him no new reason to be mad at him. So why was there still the urge to speak to Bill?

Draco tried to concentrate on whatever Crabbe and Goyle talked about. They were sitting next to a group of trees near the lake and the protective shadows allowed Draco to easily flash cautious glances towards Potter – and he wished it was Potter his eyes seemed to search on their own.

But it was Bill Weasley.

Father would kill him if he knew that Draco felt like a dozen moths were flying around a flame burning in his stomach aroused by a bloody Weasel.

Draco gulped hard when Bill looked into his direction. Could he see him? Did he remember him?

Potter and the mother-weasel sat down on the grass, but Bill stared back at Draco. Then he said something to his mother and walked over to Draco.

Shifting his gaze quickly away, Draco hoped that Bill had just seen one of his many siblings he wanted to greet now. Draco lowered his eyes and noticed that his heart was beating so fast that the badge on his chest moved with his ribcage. The fact that he was wearing a badge to support the 'real' Hogwarts champion and show his aversion against Potter suddenly seemed even more embarrassing and childish than the mysteriously sped up beat of his heart.

"Crabbe?" Draco hissed without turning around. "Crabbe, is that other Weasel coming closer?"

"That other Weasel is already here."

Draco turned quickly around and stared up at Bill Weasley. From close up he looked even better. How was it possible that one Weasel looked so handsome and cool while all the others were… well, red-haired, freckled monsters?

Bill raised a hand. "Hey, there. It's been a while."

Far too long… His memory had apparently been unable to remember Bill's way to speak right. That deep voice sent one pleasant shiver after another over Draco's spine.

"Excuse me, but do we know each other?" Draco hoped that his bored voice and disgusted expression would hide his excitement.

"Do you have a minute?" Bill simply ignored Draco's rejection. Most likely not because Draco was unable to show it, but probably because Bill's ego was too big to believe that someone could forget about him over a year.

"My mother always told me not to talk to…"

"Strangers?" Bill smiled. "I'm not a stranger."

Draco smirked. "To filthy blood traitors." From behind him Crabbe and Goyle's laughter supported him.

The grunting noises also pulled Bill's attention to them. He frowned a little, but his smile didn't disappear – it became even more amused.

"I get it. Maybe later then." He winked at Draco and turned around to leave again.

A huge hand grabbed Draco's shoulder from behind. "What was that about?"

"Goyle!" Draco jerked away. "Don't touch me. And what do I know what's gotten into this Weasley? Probably just the heat…" He gazed after Bill and tried to fan himself. "Very hot day."

When he looked over his shoulder Crabbe and Goyle both wore the same confused expression. Draco scowled them into silence.

A crush on a Weasley… Draco was disgusted of that himself and thus such behaviour was definitely appropriate.


	4. Blossoming Doubts

The next time he saw Bill it was the same day and the same place, but this time they both were alone. Normally, the lake was a popular place for couples after sunset, but no one was in the mood for snogging after today's occurrences. Draco wasn't even in the mood to tease a Weasley, and actually he didn't want to tease Bill at all.

Draco hoped in vain that the darkness would protect him. Bill spotted him almost immediately, probably because of his white-blonde hair that was not the best disguise when illuminated by pale moonlight.

"You shouldn't be out here at this time," Bill said and he was right. It was close to midnight and far over curfew, but Draco was pretty sure that teachers and prefects had better things to do at the moment than searching the grounds for escaped students. They didn't even have time to make sure that nothing had escaped this maze.

Draco leant back against a tree and stared at the lake, the dim light of stars and moon reflecting on the otherwise entirely black water surface. "I was just thinking…" He shook his head. "You are not in the position to give me orders, Weasley. What are you doing here, anyway?"

"Harry," Bill said as though this was explaining everything. "He's in the hospital wing."

"Thanks for that information, but I don't have the intention to visit him," Draco muttered. When Bill reached for his arm Draco moved away. "Don't touch me, blood traitor!"

"I don't have time for this," Bill said harshly and his next attempt to grab Draco's arm was successful. His grip was painfully tight and he was able to pull Draco to his feet in one smooth motion. "You have to go back to the castle. Even you might not be safe here at the –"

"What's this supposed to mean?" Draco struggled unsuccessfully to get free. "Even _I_? What're you trying to say?"

Bill slammed him forcefully against the tree. "You know what I'm talking about," he said and pressed his body closely against Draco's to stop the struggling. "Harry said your father was there. At the place where Cedric Diggory died. Ring any bells?"

Draco pressed his lips to a firm line and turned his head away. He wished he were able to just walk away from this new information, but Bill held him stubbornly in place.

Rumours had filled the corridors of Hogwarts ever since Potter had returned with Cedric Diggory's dead body. Portraits and older students spread them, the prefects completely overchallenged with calming the younger students. People were talking about an escaped Dementor and that someone had been kissed, but Draco had been most worried because of the rumour that the Dark Lord had returned.

He had been unable to sleep with the memories of how frightened his father had been at the Quidditch World Cup. Draco had believed that there was a reason why his father feared the return of the Dark Lord, that maybe he had made mistakes or just discovered doubts, but apparently Lucius immediately jumped when the Dark Lord flicked his fingers… and then his father seemed ready to even watch an innocent pureblood die…

"Hey? Hey… Draco? Draco, isn't it?"

Draco nodded.

"I didn't mean to ascribe you any knowledge of what happened today," Bill said and since Draco had stopped struggling by now, he made a step backwards but kept his hands on Draco's shoulders. "I was in a hurry and… Come on, I take you back to the castle."

Draco shook his head. "I didn't know that Father… Potter said that? Potter could be lying… He never liked me. Of course he takes the opportunity to accuse my father of… of being a murderer?" Draco pressed a hand against his mouth. He had never thought about what his father really might have done during the First War. The thought that it was maybe not heroic at all and just cruel made Draco sick.

"Harry didn't say your father did it. He just said Lucius Malfoy was there," Bill said, but Draco's mind was full of so many confusing thoughts that he didn't hear more than single words.

"How could he let this happen?" Draco was more talking to himself than to Bill. "How could he… If he was there, he wouldn't have let it happen… It's impossible…" Draco's weak knees gave in and he would have slipped to the ground if Bill hadn't held him in an upright position. "Diggory's blood was pure. He wasn't even a blood traitor. Why would… There's no reason… I don't understand why this happened."

Bill opened his mouth, but whatever explanation he had thought about, he swallowed it again when Draco looked at him. There was something in his eyes, pity maybe, but whatever it was Draco didn't want to see it. He leant over and pressed his forehead against Bill's chest.

"It can't be true," he whispered.

"You need to ask your father if it's true." Bill slid his arms between Draco and the tree, then closed them around the shaking mess Draco had become by now. It felt strange and good at the same time to be enclosed by such strong arms. Draco wished he could be completely enveloped by the feeling of safety instead of fighting against horribly confusing thoughts – and without his father the confusion was overwhelming. And Draco started to become unsure if it was the right thing to trust his father blindly.

"I don't have a lot of time, Draco," Bill said and pulled his arms away. Draco missed their warmth. It was so cold that he hugged himself. "I accompany you back to the castle. Listen to me… Think about what happened today, talk to your father and… send me an owl, okay?"

Draco frowned. "Why?"

"Because I'm worried." Bill smiled at him, swung his arm around Draco's shoulder and pulled him back to the castle. "And you owe me something, remember?"

"Yes…" Draco nodded and looked up at Bill, leaning against him without attracting attention. "Yes, I haven't forgotten that…"

"Thought so," Bill replied. "You've grown so much over the last year, you know?" When he returned Draco's stubborn stare there was something glittering in his pale blue eyes that caused Draco to blush. "I wish you would've matured a bit as well, then we could've talked this afternoon under… different circumstances."

Draco looked away. He also wished that he wouldn't behave like a child whenever Bill Weasley was close to him.


	5. A Spark of Rebellion

Draco never enjoyed writing letters more than the summer following his fourth year at Hogwarts. It seemed so easy to open up, maybe because he didn't have to look at anyone. A penpal, Draco realised, was a really nice thing. Bill Weasley as a penpal was just wonderful.

The only negative aspect of letters, Draco noticed, was the lack of physical closeness, and the need for this was getting stronger with each day. And maybe it became so strong that it eventually was visible to his parents.

Draco was shocked to find his father in his room one day, several parchments splayed all over his desk. Lucius was too busy reading the letters to hear Draco coming.

"Father, may I ask you what you're doing there?"

Lucius turned around, not showing any reaction to Draco's scowl. He pulled his wand out and Summoned the bin to his side. The parchments from the desk hovered into the air and roll after roll flew into the bin. Draco opened his mouth to protest but only gasped when a fire lit up in the bin.

"You're not going to write to this man again," Lucius said coldly.

Draco snorted, covering the pain throbbing in his chest at the loss of all those precious letters. "Why?"

Lucius smirked. Through the flames, he contently watched Draco suffering. "A blood traitor, Draco. What have I told you about those people? They're weak wizards that only feel superior when they're surrounded by Muggleborns and Muggles. You don't need that."

"This…" Draco pointed at the burning parchments. "This isn't about blood, Father. I certainly won't suddenly start _liking_ Muggles, just because he… might. It's not like a sickness."

Lucius laughed, but confronted with the serious expression of his son his face hardened. "Garbage is garbage, Draco," he said. "Separate paper and plastic; it's still garbage. Do you want to end up lying in a mountain of garbage?"

Draco opened his mouth to answer. Lucius cut him off with a wave of his hand.

"No arguing anymore. I'm shocked that you even try to justify this… friendship? It's so disappointing that you don't realise this by yourself. He's only using you."

"Using me?" Draco frowned. "Why should he do that? I think you're just prejudiced because he's a Weasley."

"Yes, exactly." Lucius rose from the chair. The fire in the bin had died and Draco was forced to look at the ashes of his so-called friendship to Bill Weasley.

"But he's _different_," Draco snapped, anger boiling in his blood like he had rarely felt it in his father's presence. "He doesn't care for old family hostility. He's interested in _me_!"

"Because you are _my_ son, Draco," Lucius stated soberly. "Now stop babbling such nonsense. You sound like a lovesick girl."

Draco felt heat filling his cheeks, but tried not to look embarrassed. Apparently, he failed, because Lucius's mouth twitched in amusement.

"Those Weasleys are all engaged in activities of the Order of the Phoenix," Lucius explained. "They try to get information about the Dark Lord's return over you, Draco."

"Does that mean that He is truly back?" Draco whirled around when his father simply walked past him and out of the door. "Father?"

"I won't tell you anything, Draco. Had I known that you're involved with such people –"

"_Such people_ at least care for me!" Draco's sudden outburst was a shock for Lucius, who turned around with anger digging deep lines into his usually cold face. Draco gulped and wished he were able to just shut up. "He saved my life when you were busy torturing bloody Muggles. And more important, he considers me more than a child."

Amusement crawled back on Lucius's features. "If you think so, then you're proving that you're not more than a child. That man is a decade older than you. Whatever stupid crush keeps you busy these days, put an end to it. Now."

Draco pressed his lips together, scowling forcefully at his father.

"I won't say that again," Lucius hissed dangerously. "Remember who you are, Draco."

"The son of a coward?" Draco pressed a hand against his mouth as soon as the words had left his lips.

"What did you call me?" Lucius came closer, his steady footsteps a heavy contrast to Draco's erratic heartbeat.

Draco lowered his hand, swallowing his fear. "What else should I think of you? At the first sign of your oh-so-precious Lord you ran away screaming like a girl. And what shall I think of this Lord anyway? He's killing everyone who steps into His way, even pure-bloods. What kind of society is it He wants to create like that? Getting rid of Mudbloods and Muggles doesn't matter to Him anymore!"

Warningly, Lucius raised his hand. "Draco, watch your mouth."

"But it's true! The Dark Lord you supported is dead. And what returned is a pathetic mess driven by his need to take revenge on a child. How can you work for such an insane creature?"

"I think that you read too many of those letters," Lucius replied and when he pulled out his wand again, Draco's heart stopped. "In your room."

"I… I'm sorry. I didn't…" Draco hissed when Lucius grabbed his shoulder painfully tight. "Father, that hurts."

"And speaking like this of our Master will hurt even more." Lucius shoved Draco into his room and closed the door behind them.

* * *

When Bill Weasley opened the door of his flat he was surprised to find Draco waiting there, but even more surprised to see tears glittering in his eyes. His face was paler than usual and so that small rivulet of blood escaping the corner of his mouth was immediately grabbing attention.

"Draco…?" Bill grabbed Draco's chin, examining the tiny crack in those full lips. "What happened?"

Apparently, Draco had tried to hide any injuries and now backed hastily away. He wiped over his mouth, hesitantly searching for Bill's eyes.

"Are you…" Draco's voice was only a shaky breath. "…just using me?"


	6. Let Me Be Your Shelter

Draco had grown into a handsome young man. Over the last year his features had sharpened, becoming more mature and with that almost irresistible. His skin was so unbelievable pale that the slightest shade of red across his high cheekbones was unable to hide, and he blushed often. Bill was quite sure that this was his fault. And now this flawless skin had been harmed.

Bill wanted to kill whoever had hurt this beautiful creature.

"Any other injuries?" Bill had traced his wand over Draco's lip to heal the crack. Draco ran his tongue over the spot which still sparkled with magic, then he shook his head. Bill didn't believe him, but he could hardly force Draco to trust him.

"Okay, what happened?" Bill flung the blanket that lay on the backrest of his couch over Draco's shoulders. They sat across each other, but actually Bill wanted to pull Draco into his arms.

"Answer my question." Draco's voice was still demanding, but it was shaking heavily because of his attempt to suppress any emotions that would show his vulnerability.

Bill moved closer as the need to hug Draco grew to an almost unbearable amount. "Why should I use you?" He rubbed Draco's upper arm, eventually resting his hand on the slender shoulder.

"You know why…" Draco's eyes flickered to Bill's hand. "You are… one of them… and my…" To stop himself from talking about things Bill already knew, Draco pressed his lips together.

"Your father did this? Because of our letters?"

Draco didn't have to nod. Bill could see the answer in his eyes. His hand on Draco's shoulder tightened.

"Do you want to stop?" he asked, but Draco avoided his gaze and also denied Bill any verbal answer. "I don't ask what your father wants you to do, Draco. He'd like to see me dead, I can guess that."

It was an open secret that Lucius Malfoy was a Death Eater. Draco had never talked about anything useful for the Order, but his father had to believe this if he discovered their connection.

Bill couldn't imagine how angry Lucius Malfoy must have been. Draco probably got off lightly with a bleeding lip.

"I don't know," Draco said quietly. "Tell me… what you want from me."

"Not what your father thinks," Bill replied.

Draco looked up, his misty grey eyes bloodshot. "I don't want… I can't decide this."

Bill took a deep breath and then closed his arms around Draco. He hugged him tightly, wishing he could still call this comforting, but Draco's pale neck seemed to scream for his face. And the boy smelled so good…

Draco stiffened. He obviously wasn't used to be hugged. And he was too young to understand why Bill held him like this.

"Why couldn't you tell me you only used me?" Draco said, and Bill pulled away, but only so much to look at him. "I could've lived with that. It would be easier to hate you."

"Did you just say that you like me?" Bill grinned and stroked Draco's flushing cheek with his knuckles. "There's nothing wrong with our letters." But it was oh-so-wrong what Bill felt when he focused too long on those full lips.

"That's not true. Your letters…" Draco shook his head and he looked so confused that Bill pulled him back into his arms. And this time Draco returned the hug, clinging to Bill's shoulders, tighter than was good for Bill's control. "What if you change me?"

"I'm not trying to," Bill assured.

"Can you promise it?" When Draco turned his head, he brought his lips temptingly close to Bill's. "All I ask of you is that you won't let this… conflict step between us."

"It's not a conflict," Bill said in an attempt to focus on something else than Draco's mouth. "It's a war. There's a war coming. You know that. I know that. And we both know that I'm not… sharing the views of your father."

Draco glared at him. He pulled away and Bill's arms felt empty and cold. "I don't know _anything_. It's your fault father won't tell me anything, and you do the same because of my father," he said bitterly. "I'm in the middle of this something and instead of pulling me into a direction you both just left me there. I expected such behaviour from my father, but… I thought I'm not only a child for you."

"You aren't an adult either, Draco," Bill said and thought he sounded pretty much like his mother. But it was true. Draco was fifteen. He shouldn't have to worry about what he called conflict.

Draco snorted. "I see…" He shrugged the blanket off, moving to get up. Bill grabbed his arm. "I'm going home."

"I won't let you." Bill cupped Draco's cheek and pressed his thumb against the spot that had been injured a moment before. He couldn't take the responsibility for whatever Lucius Malfoy had to think when Draco returned at this time. It was late and already dark. Draco should stay here, where Bill was able to protect him.

What was he thinking? Not coming back home was even worse than coming home in the middle of the night. He couldn't protect Draco all the time. Especially if Draco didn't want it.

"You ask me to stay?" Draco narrowed his eyes suspiciously, turning his head away from Bill's hand. "Over night?"

"Yeah…" Bill wanted to explain his reasons, but with Draco turning the colour of a tomato he managed not a single syllable.

The corners of Draco's mouth eventually twitched and the result was not the usual smirk but a sweet smile. "Okay… but I won't sleep on the couch."

Bill laughed hoarsely and reached out to touch Draco's cheek, wanting to feel the warmth of the deep blush again. Draco leant into the touch, barely noticeable, but considerably enough to raise doubts in Bill if it was such a good idea to let Draco stay.

But he only wanted to protect Draco. That couldn't be wrong.


	7. Painted Illusions

Draco couldn't sleep. Not with Bill Weasley in the other room. He wasn't supposed to sleep anyway.

Bill's bedroom was quite small. In front of a huge window stood a desk, covered with parchments. Draco was looking at them, searching for something else than work schedules and letters to costumers, Gringotts, or friends and family. He found nothing and felt horrible.

With a heavy sigh, Draco gazed out of the window. Thick clouds swallowed the light of the moon and stars. Draco had to read through all these borings letters without a source of light, wishing he could paint some stars with a flick of his wand. It would make this task a little easier…

Draco lifted his arm and pressed his nose into the fabric of the oversized pyjamas Bill had given to him. The smell was intoxicating. And it was everywhere. Draco looked longingly at the bed. Wrapping himself up in Bill's scent was everything he wanted to do right now. Not following his father's orders…

"_Yes, Father_," he had said, and then "_I understand, Father_", but he couldn't do _it_.

The dutiful son was a picture he couldn't paint whole-heartily.

Draco looked full of frustration at the parchments and turned his back to them. In a shelf next to the desk he found a collection of photos. Bill with his family, Bill in front of a pyramid, on top of a camel… arm in arm with a girl… and there was another girl… and Bill between two girls…

Draco tore his gaze away, grimacing. He was close to recover his motivation because of these pictures. It was understandable that a good-looking man like Bill had many female friends, but presenting them like this was… too disgusting to put into words.

Draco walked to the door and opened it. Cautiously, he looked into the sitting room. Bill slept on the couch, but there was barely more visible than his shape in the darkness. Draco approached him, sat down next to Bill's legs and watched the barely covered man. The long strands of hair hang loosely in Bill's face, hiding the handsome features. Draco brushed the hair away and stroked over Bill's cheek. Stubbles scratched his palm. A strange but somehow pleasant feeling.

Suddenly, Bill turned his head and leant into Draco's hand. Draco froze, but Bill didn't open his eyes, continuing to walk in the land of dreams where no annoying teenager expelled him from his bed.

Bill was so nice to him. Despite Lucius's suspicion he didn't even seem to be interested in any things related to the Dark Lord. Draco couldn't believe that Bill wanted to use him for anything. Lucius was the one using him, sending him to Bill to make up for insulting the Dark Lord by searching for useful information.

"I can't do this" Draco muttered to himself.

Apparently loud enough to wake Bill. "What?" The sudden address startled Draco, giving Bill the time to turn his head and slip away from Draco's hand. "What're you doing here?" he asked while sitting up.

"Uhm…" Draco folded his hands in his lap, looking away. "I… couldn't sleep."

"You're probably used to a more comfortable mattress." Bill touched his shoulder and Draco slowly turned to look into those warm eyes. It made him blush. No one ever looked at him like this. He knew cold glances full of expectation, but this spark in the soulful eyes, even notable in the dark, filled him with curiosity to explore the reasons behind this foreign emotion.

"I don't want to be alone," Draco said and hoped to find the way into Bill's arms like this. Bill seemed to be very fond of holding him. His arms closed immediately around Draco, pulled him against that broad chest. Draco straightened so that he was able to nestle his temple on Bill's shoulder.

He shouldn't enjoy this so much. Bill was a bloody Weasley and he was responsible for this mess. Draco should start to hate him and everything would be good. He could easily take advantage of him then, giving his father all the information of the Order Bill was able to deliver him.

Draco met Bill's gaze when he looked up. He had to bite his lip to suppress a smile, something Bill didn't even try to. There was puzzlement in his eyes, increasing when Draco traced his fingers along his jaw line.

"Scratchy," Draco said, tilting his head to the side. The tip of his nose touched Bill's cheek and the feeling of the stubbles became even more intense. Draco clutched to Bill's shirt when he reached the corner of Bill's mouth.

"Draco." Bill's voice was strained because of the attempt to sound rejecting, but he didn't pull away, even brought his hand up into Draco's hair.

Draco closed his eyes and sighed.

Bill made a sudden noise of desperation, grabbed a handful of Draco's hair and pulled him into a kiss. It was rough, violent and almost painful. Draco had never kissed like this before, had never felt so much passion nor believed he could arouse such feelings in Bill.

Overwhelmed by this realisation, Draco pulled away and stared wide-eyed out of the window. The black sky seemed to swallow him, giving his thoughts the space they needed to drift into the wrong direction. Why had he allowed these hopeless feelings to reveal themselves? This crush had a future that was as black as the nightsky.

"Fuck, I'm sorry…" Bill grabbed his chin and forced him to look into these sky-blue eyes, sparkling with affection. Like a brilliant shimmer of starlight breaking through the clouds, small dots lighting up all hopelessness he had felt before. And he had painted them.

Draco felt how his pride almost resulted in a smile. Quickly, he leant forward and hid his face in the crook of Bill's neck.

"Don't be," he said, knowing that he should be the one feeling sorry.


	8. Limits

Draco Malfoy seemed to be made for his embrace. Bill was amazed how well Draco fitted into his arms, even on the small couch, and he was even more surprised how fast he could forget about the age disparity.

It had started with a simple touch, just his fingertips against Draco's neck, stroking over the white-blonde hair, and now he was tasting the pale skin, covering it with the slow, careful kisses something this precious had deserved. Draco woke to this feeling. Still sleepy, he sighed, a small, content sigh, as if this was all he'd ever wanted out of life.

"Morning," Bill rasped, his voice still hoarse from sleep.

"_Good_ morning," said Draco. "And I thought this was a dream…"

Right after those words had left Draco's mouth, Bill felt him stiffening. Then slowly, very cautiously, Draco rolled over to look at Bill. He lifted his hand to trace Bill's lips.

"Did I only dream the kiss?"

Bill smiled. Instead of answering he leant over to prove that Draco hadn't been dreaming. He pressed his lips on Draco's, short and innocent, fearing to lose control once more. And when Draco didn't want to let him go, lapping greedily at his lips, Bill was so close to just throw Draco over and do all sort of things to him he wouldn't even dream about.

Scraping together his last pieces of control, he pulled away.

"Draco." Bill regretted his harsh tone. Draco looked like he had just been slapped. "Not a dream, no, but I… I can't do this. You're fifteen."

Surprisingly, Draco laughed, mingled with a snort, but laughed. "Yeah, not to mention that I'm my father's son… and the other countless reasons why this can't be more than a… couch-moment…" Draco pressed his face against Bill's chest, probably on purpose muffling his voice. Bill thought he heard something like "only one moment", and he didn't know what to think of that.

"Oh, come on, Draco. Don't be melodramatic. We can have more than one couch-moment," Bill said. He had hoped that Draco would look at him, but his chest seemed to be too comfortable to leave it. Bill patted Draco's hair. "What about breakfast?"

"Before you kick me out?"

"Yeah." Bill rolled his eyes when Draco stared at him in shock. "Except you want to wait here until I come back from work."

"What if I want?" Draco's voice was serious. Bill had never planned serious. He had never planned to kiss Draco either. Actually, he was somehow disgusted that he had been unable to resist. He felt like a paedophile.

But one longer look into the pale eyes and he was lost. Draco leant over, aiming for Bill's lips. Not even an inch separated them from another forbidden kiss when Bill was overwhelmed by his annoying conscience. He pulled away.

"No… No, Draco, I can't."

Draco looked hurt. "So this is your portrait of a hero? Sending me right back to that man? Was all this stuff about wanting to protect me a lie?" He shoved Bill away and then just stared at him, as if he was waiting for Bill to stop him. Bill's conscience told him not to. Meanwhile his heart banged hard against his chest, trying to get his attention, trying to break out and catch Draco.

But Draco was already on his feet and too far away when Bill reached out a hand to him.

"I think I rather skip breakfast."

Bill lowered his hand. "Okay… But let me write you another letter about this between us."

"Can't do much to stop you. My father might break my fingers, so don't worry if you don't get an immediate answer," Draco said, pointedly indifferent.

Bill knew that Draco only said that to provoke him, but it was working. His head was suddenly full of images of Draco injured and alone, close to tears, and he couldn't bear this vision.

But letting Draco stay was a line he couldn't cross yet…

* * *

Draco entered Malfoy Manor and found his father already waiting for him in the entrance hall. Questioningly, Lucius raised his left eyebrow, but Draco simply walked past him, heading for the stairs. For a wonderful moment he thought he could escape. Then Lucius grabbed his arm.

"What do we have here?"

Draco felt those familiar cold fingertips on his neck. He shut his eyes tightly when Lucius's hand slid into his hair.

"A love bite? Not exactly what I expected you to bring home."

Draco turned around. As soon as he met his father's gaze that spark of rebellion was back, and spurred on by the anger he felt it turned into a flame.

"Sorry, Father." Draco smirked. "What you want me to do apparently takes more than one night."

Lucius pointed a finger at Draco. "Not funny. Report, now."

"Are you sure? It's quite private…"

Lucius narrowed his eyes, anger spotting his face.

Draco was in the mood to test his limits. "Oh, not fond of the idea that he took my precious virginity? That he fucked me into insanity? And that I loved every single bit of it?"

Lucius slapped him sharply across the face. Draco stumbled to the side, only held on his feet by his father's tight grip.

"How dare you, Draco? I never raised you to be the whore of a Weasley," rasped Lucius into his ear.

"Who forced me to prove my loyalty to the Dark Lord no matter the cost?" Draco tasted blood as he spoke. "Just let me try it again. Harder. I'll manage this. I'll get the information you want."

"No! You won't see this man again. This goes too far, Draco."

"The sky has no limits, Father."

"This one has. And if you're not careful you ram your head against the end, and then you fall, and I won't be there to catch you." Lucius grabbed his chin and with his thumb he wiped the blood off Draco's lip. "And Bill Weasley neither."


	9. Through the Window Pane

A chill February breeze blew Draco's hair into his face as he leant over the letter. It was a normal Hogsmeade weekend, the only opportunity for Hogwarts' students to connect freely with the outside world at the moment. Umbridge was an odious dictator, therefore exactly to Lucius's taste. And Lucius finally considered him a dutiful son again as long as he sucked up to her.

But Draco was far away from dutiful. If Umbridge started reading _his_ mail and told his father what kind of conversations he shared with Bill Weasley, then he would be dead faster than an annoying bee during summer. So, to prevent Umbridge from opening Draco's letters, he just had to keep his head down.

Meeting Bill in Hogsmeade was definitely not the best way to do so. But it was Valentine's Day. And Bill had invited him. He couldn't say 'no'. Especially not when he was desperate to see Bill again. Touches were impossible with all these students filling the streets of Hogsmeade. But just one look would satisfy Draco for the moment.

He stopped in a deserted side street next to the Three Broomsticks and looked around. His friends weren't in sight and he didn't see them either as he looked through the window into the pub. Draco used the window pane to check his appearance once again. He looked great, awesome as ever, but his expression was full of nervousness. The face in the glass was not what he wanted Bill to see.

Draco noticed that his hands were sweaty. "Crap…" He turned on the spot and wanted to hurry away, but a tall man blocked his way.

"Hello there," Bill said with a smile. "Didn't we say _inside_ the pub?"

"I was on my way," Draco asserted.

Bill raised his eyebrows sceptically.

Draco wove himself into stubborn silence. A long silence that forced them both to smile after a while. Draco began to laugh, then threw himself forward without warning. Bill caught him safely in his arms, lifted him off his feet and turned them both around. Even when he was put back to the ground Draco held on tight to Bill's shoulders.

"Missed me?" Bill framed Draco's face, his tight grip almost preventing the nod. "I missed you, too."

Draco's smile was crooked and he hid it quickly in the crook of Bill's neck. Something he had been unable to do the last time he had seen Bill.

"A dark and dusty side street… Not exactly what I planned for Valentine's Day," Bill said, putting his hand on Draco's head. "You've grown quite a bit."

Draco looked up at him, hands resting on Bill's broad chest. It was like he could feel Bill's heart beating through his robes.

"I'm older as well."

"Don't try, Draco," Bill replied in a soft tone and tried to remove his hands from Draco's cheeks. Within a second Draco grabbed Bill's wrists and held them in place. He leant up to Bill's lips, catching a small cloudlet of breath with his mouth.

"Just one kiss…" Draco tried to catch Bill's lower lip with his teeth, but Bill pulled back. "Take it as my Valentine's gift."

"I can't…" Bill's eyes shone with a weird mixture of regret and longing.

Draco let go off his wrists and was happy that Bill's hands stayed on his face anyway. "My birthday is just a few months away," he whispered. "Age of consent in reach."

"Any wishes? I mean, except from being snogged senseless?"

"No…" Draco shook his head while wrapping his arms around Bill's neck, pressing closer. "Just you… wrapped up with a ribbon and a bow, maybe."

Bill grinned. "And they say Draco Malfoy is spoilt."

"Spoilt enough to demand at least one kiss." Draco opened his lips slightly and tilted his head to the side, giving Bill the perfect angle for what he obviously wanted as well.

Bill leant forward and Draco closed his eyes in anticipation only to be shoved away a second later. Revealing his frustration, he growled and turned to Bill, ready to shout at him. But the way Bill looked at the window let Draco choke on his words.

Behind the glass a very curious looking woman with a pink hat and equally pink robes stared back at them. She had the perfect view on Bill and Draco's expressions reflected on the glass, both completely shocked. Draco focused faster. He grabbed Bill's wrist and pulled him away from the window.

"Wasn't that –"

"Yes!"

"But isn't she –"

"Yes, absolutely!"

"Then why –"

"Bill!" Draco stopped in the middle of the streets. "She likes me," he said to Bill, who looked like he needed a small spark of hope at the moment. "No need to worry."

"I'm just worrying about you," Bill answered, and if they hadn't been on an open street Draco would have kissed him now. Like this he could only smile.

"Okay, but now let's go and find a place where no nosy teachers or one of your countless siblings find us."


	10. Cupid

Lucius Malfoy entered Gringotts looking for one special person and not for the usual goblin that loved to bring him down into the biggest vault in the dungeons. The ugly creature looked like it was about to kill itself when Lucius said that he wanted to talk to a human about investing. But because Gringotts would be very empty without Lucius it obeyed and called a blonde witch.

"Miss Delacour is going to escort you, Mr. Malfoy," the goblin said, then hastily walked back to the long counter.

Lucius turned to Miss Delacour, a truly extraordinarily beautiful woman, and motioned her to lead the way. Her silvery-blonde hair danced behind her as she walked quickly ahead, moving with an unearthly grace that would be more than welcomed in the corridors of Malfoy Manor. Oh, why couldn't Draco fall in love with such a girl?

"Mr. Riley just came back from lunch break," Miss Delacour began, but dutifully stopped when Lucius raised a hand.

"I'd like to talk to someone else… William Weasley?"

"Of course!" Miss Delacour's smile brightened and she led Lucius to another door. "'e's amazing, just a little undervalued. Eef you 'ave any problems, I'll be in ze 'all, Mr. Malfoy."

Lucius nodded sharply, let Miss Delacour knock and open the door to introduce him, and then he finally met the disgusting person that had corrupted his son.

Bill Weasley stood behind his desk, obviously surprised by Lucius Malfoy's unexpected entrance but trying his best to hide it.

"Mr. Malfoy… please take a seat." He pointed at the chair in front of his desk, then walked to a counter to his right. "May I offer you a cup of tea?"

"Please refrain." Lucius watched Bill filling just one cup then. "You know why I'm here, Mr. Weasley."

"Surely not to talk about investing." Bill took his seat behind the desk and put his cup in front of him. Lucius tried not to look at it. He stared at Bill, trying to pin him with his eyes like he could do so easily with all those slimy, spineless wizards that polluted his environment. It didn't work this time.

"I want an explanation why you still meet my son."

"That new professor told you something?" Bill shook his head. "I knew it…"

"Draco assured me to break off contact with you."

"Really?" Bill was far too amused until now.

"My son is fifteen," Lucius stated.

"We're not doing anything illegal."

"Of course not." Lucius could remember the marks on his son's flawless skin disgustingly well. "A handsome, young, _rich _boy doesn't arouse any feelings in you."

"I didn't say that," Bill said with a brazen smirk. "And I have a well-paid job, Mr. Malfoy. I certainly don't want your gold, or want to be spoken to like that."

"Then _what_ do you want?" Lucius leant forward and rested his hands on Bill's desk, the cup a few inches away from him. "What is it _a child_ can give you? What can _you_ offer my son?"

Bill followed Lucius's example and leant over the table. "I let him decide this himself."

Lucius was only one step away from aiming his wand at Bill. "Apparently, you are not interested in talking to me."

"Apparently." Bill shrugged. "Except you want to change the topic to investing."

"I understand." Slowly, Lucius rose from his chair. "But be sure that I will do everything in my power to keep you away from my son."

"Try it, if you must." Bill stayed impressively unimpressed as he walked to the door, opening it for Lucius. "Now, please excuse me. I've got work to do."

Before Lucius turned around to leave, he pulled a small vial out of his pocket and uncorked it. He let a few drops of the liquid fall into the cup on the desk without attracting attention. If Bill had seen what Lucius had dripped into his tea, he wouldn't smile this confidently and let Lucius walk away without the slightest suspicion.

Lucius couldn't suppress the smile any longer as he entered the hall.

"Sir?" Miss Delacour called him from behind. Lucius turned around to watch her picking something up from the ground. "You dropped somezing, Mr. Malfoy." She held the vial out to Lucius, but pulled it back when he reached for it. Curiously, she examined the remaining liquid and then smelled at it.

"Zis is a truly intriguing mixture, Mr. Malfoy. May I ask what zis potion is?"

Lucius had trouble forming a harsh reply and suddenly found himself in the middle of his reply: "Of course. But I thought that an intelligent young lady like you could tell me the answer immediately. It's parsley, sage, rosemary…"

"And thyme?" Miss Delacour smiled a bewitching smile. "You don't carry a love potion around, do you, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Certainly not," Lucius said and retrieved his vial. "Otherwise it would already be inside your tea cup, wouldn't it?"

Her smile brightened even more and she turned away with a hint of faked embarrassment.

Lucius held her back. "Oh, Miss Delacour? Mr. Weasley asked for you."

"Really? Zank you, Sir. I will better 'urry up zen." And with that Miss Delacour floated into the cage not fate but Lucius had built for her.

He let the vial slip into his pocket. A love charm; the easiest way to make Bill Weasley realise whom he belonged to.

Playing cupid… Lucius shook his head. The only reason he didn't throw up right here was the certainty that Draco was safe now.


	11. How a Heart Breaks

Draco's smile was so big it hurt. And that although he just broke over a dozen rules. If someone noticed that he left Hogwarts in the middle of the week detention would be his smallest problem.

But he didn't care, because this was going to be the best birthday in his life.

Draco combed his hair with his fingers, smoothed his robes and then knocked at Bill's door.

He didn't get a response.

Draco's smile didn't vanish. Bill had never told him not to come. He had said that he thought it wasn't a good idea, but that he had coincidentally taken the afternoon off. A very obvious hint. So Draco knocked again.

And waited.

The corners of his mouth dropped, but Draco forced the smile back into his face and knocked again, forcefully. Then, finally, there were noises, rumbling, and the sound of a drowned voice. Bill's voice. Draco's smile blossomed up.

Bill opened the door, but only so much to look through the crack. His hair was untidily tied back and he wasn't wearing a shirt, almost like he had just woken up. Draco would gladly shove him back into his bed…

"Hey," he said and bit on his lower lip when Bill opened the door further, revealing more of his bare chest.

"Draco, hi…" Bill's mouth twitched, but it never became a real smile. "Wha-What are you doing here?"

"My, my…" Draco was amused. "What day is it, Bill?"

"Wednesday," came the immediate answer. And for a moment Draco was still smiling. But then Bill seemingly didn't want to add something and Draco let himself feel hurt at last.

"You can't be serious…" Draco reached for Bill's arm, but stilled when he noticed new noises. They came from inside the flat. Draco tried to look inside only to have his view blocked by Bill.

"Who's there?" he asked simultaneously with a female voice. Draco was petrified with confusion and could only gasp when a familiar woman appeared behind Bill. Fleur Delacour peered over Bill's shoulder. With an amused smile she wrapped her arms around Bill's torso, and Draco could see that she wore Bill's shirt, _nothing_ but his shirt.

"Who's zat child, chéri?"

"Uhm…" Bill turned his head and as soon as he looked into the face of that bloody Veela bitch every glimpse of guilt disappeared. "Who?"

Fleur giggled. "Ze boy."

"Boy?" Bill seemed to have completely forgotten about Draco, pulled that perfectly shaped body into his arms and started kissing Fleur. Right in front of Draco. Kissed her in a way he had never kissed Draco. Messy, _dirty_, with tongue and need, all the obvious want Draco had believed was supposed to be his.

Then the door was slammed shut. And Draco's heart broke.

He turned around, unable to breathe, and every try to fill his lungs with air only resulted in more pain enclosing his chest. Like he just lost his mind, Draco found himself whispering, "Happy birthday, Draco."


	12. Through with You

"Mr. Malfoy, you have ten minutes," the Auror said while guarding Narcissa Malfoy to the end of the corridor. Draco rose from his chair and exchanged a quick glance with his mother. Tears glittered in her eyes, but she would not let them fall and risk to show any weakness at the moment.

Draco wasn't so sure how long he could cover his weakness at the moment. Since his birthday he had fallen into a deep abyss of depression, so obvious that he was ashamed of it, and now he had to cope with this.

His father waited inside a small chamber right next to the hearing room. Draco would be his last visitor before the Aurors took him to Azkaban. Lucius's trial was over for barely fifteen minutes, it had barely _lasted_ fifteen minutes, and Draco could not understand where all the respect for his father and all of his family's influence had suddenly gone to.

He entered the room to speak to Lucius for the first time since last Christmas. The Easter holidays had been full of ice-cold silence, caused by his bloody crush on Bill Weasley. Draco hated himself for that now…

"My son…" Lucius was tied to a very uncomfortable looking bench of wood. He patted next to him, but Draco stayed right behind the door. He could hardly look at his father. Lucius had already spent a few weeks in Azkaban, looking dishevelled and exhausted, so very much not like his father.

Draco didn't know what to say.

"Draco, please…" His father was pleading. Draco couldn't look at him anymore. "I have to talk to you. Explain the next steps to you. Come here, Son."

Draco stayed where he was.

"The fate of the family lies in your hands, Draco. If you prove yourself helpful to the Dark Lord you can rebuilt what I destroyed. You can earn my freedom."

"Your freedom?" Draco was angry. So angry. At the whole world. "Why would I do that? You got yourself into this. Pay for your foolish mistakes, Father."

Although not looking at Lucius, he felt his cold eyes on him. "This is Bill Weasley speaking, obviously."

Draco snorted.

"You put that man over your family?" Lucius could try as hard as he wanted; he would not get an answer from Draco, not about that topic. "Have you put your ideals behind his? He is influencing you. That is not love, Draco. Don't think you –"

"Shut up. Shut the fuck up!" Draco screamed at his father, turned to look at him, and for the first time in his life screamed at his father. All the anger inside him hit Lucius so surprisingly that he only gasped. "_You _are leaving me alone! Again! And I'm supposed to fix your mess now? Without _anyone _protecting me?"

He expected Lucius to at least yell at him, to hit him had he been able to, but his father stayed surprisingly calm. Lucius even seemed content.

"You don't need anyone to protect you, Draco," he said. "You can do this by yourself. This is your moment."

Draco rolled his eyes, which burnt with tears. "Well, I hope the knowledge that there is no one wanting to protect me anymore keeps you warm in Azkaban, Father."

The last time he looked at his father he thought to see a glimpse of guilt in the usually so cold face. But it didn't matter… None of this would matter. None of this had ever mattered.

When the door fell close behind Draco, he couldn't hold the tears any longer. All those tears he had wanted to cry for weeks fell from his eyes like raindrops from the sky. He buried his face in his hands and sobbed. He sobbed and he sobbed and he sobbed, praying that someone would pull him into his arms now.

But when he looked up, there was only one very embarrassed looking Auror standing in the corner.

"Your time is up," he rasped.

Draco nodded and wiped the teardrops away with his sleeve. His dignity was lost. But he had to keep it up after leaving this room. Like his mother. And for her, to keep her safe, he had to prepare to face tomorrow alone as soon as he stepped out of that door.

Taking a deep breath, Draco straightened his shoulders and made a first, hesitant step forward into a lonely future.


	13. Broken Promise

Draco Malfoy was a shadow of the boy Bill used to know.

He found him lingering behind some trees near the Burrow, his distinct hair giving him away even in the darkness. Bill approached him from behind and had to clear his throat to make Draco notice him.

Draco whirled around and for the first time in over a year Bill looked him directly into the eyes. Dark circles lay underneath the bloodshot eyes, Draco's skin was ashen, his cheeks hollow, and still was his handsomeness visible.

Bill wished he could say the same about himself. But Draco's wide, frightened eyes made him realise once more what his face had become. A mask of scars.

"What're you doing here?" Bill had to point his wand at Draco.

"I… I didn't… I'm not here to…"

"You're wanted, Draco. Stop stuttering and tell me why you risk getting caught by coming here." Bill's voice was hoarse, almost a growl, and he noticed Draco's eyes flickering to the moon above them. It hurt him. He had never wanted to arouse fear in Draco. "Several members of the Order of the Phoenix are waiting inside my house. And I doubt you brought any of your friends here to –"

"I'm not here to spy," Draco interrupted. His voice was deeper. He had grown so much. His sight was like a fist tightening around Bill's heart. "Don't tell anyone… I…"

"Why are you here," Bill asked again. "Why?"

"You…" Draco glanced away, his gaze distant. "I've heard about your wedding plans. Just needed to see it with my own eyes."

Bill looked down. "Yeah…"

Silence spread out between them. Uncomfortable, heavy and thick with the pain of the past.

"So," Draco eventually started. "Fleur Delacour, yes? She's very pretty… a good choice, I suppose."

"I don't have a lot of choices with a face like this." Bill looked back at Draco, feeling sick to his stomach. "Do you feel guilty?"

"Do you?" Draco asked. Bill could see the shift of shadows across the pale face as Draco stepped closer and away from the tree. "You promised to protect me, and when I needed your protection, your support… _you_… where were you? Busy fucking some French, legal bi– witch?"

Bill gulped as Draco continued to approach him. He lowered his wand.

"I'm a bloody teenager. I was alone with my choices… and I made all the wrong ones. Yes, I'm filled to the brim with guilt." Draco stopped in front of him, reached out and cupped Bill's scarred cheek in his palm. There was not a glimpse of disgust in his eyes. His hand was cold. "But these scars, your face… No. You're still the most beautiful man I ever saw."

Bill smiled helplessly. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I did what I did, but I am truly sorry."

Coldness was the last thing Bill had expected to receive from Draco after this declaration. "I hope so." And his façade broke quickly. He exhaled sharply. "The knowledge that you… that you could've changed everything… sometimes that's everything that keeps me sane." He framed Bill's face, preventing him from looking away. His desperateness was painful. "I think about it… how it could've been between you and me. It makes me feel better. Do you still think about me?"

"More than I should so close before my wedding." Bill closed his eyes and placed his hand on Draco's head, exerting just enough pressure to make him move. Draco obeyed, wrapped his arms around Bill's neck and buried his face in Bill's chest.

They stood like this for a moment, once more wrapped up in silence, but this time it was the exact opposite to uncomfortable. Draco clung to him as if his life depended on it. And that it maybe did broke Bill's heart.

"I already regret so much, Draco. Don't add new things."

Draco lifted his head. The moonlight made the wetness around his eyes visible. "You want to call your Order-friends?"

"No, I…" Bill put his wand into his pocket, then returned his hands to Draco's shoulders – only to push him gently away. "I'm going to get married. It feels right…" He gulped at the sight of pain glistening in Draco's eyes. "I can't leave it all behind."

Draco closed his eyes and tears escaped him.

Bill bent over to Draco, felt his warm breath skating over his lips, but he couldn't close the distance.

"Thank you," Draco breathed and because of Bill's confused expression, he added, "if you can turn into such a coward, then maybe I can become braver. Maybe I can fix something. Maybe…"

Bill shook his head. The conviction in Draco's voice sounded wrong and weak, like he knew that there was nothing he could do to fix anything.

"Draco…" Bill almost begged. There was a small spark in his chest, the familiar need to pull that slender body back into his arms and keep him safe, and he felt it becoming a real, warm flame. "I –"

"You need to be careful," Draco said quickly, like he didn't even want to stir the fire. He pressed his hands on Bill's chest, digging his fingers into the robes. "They know that Potter stays with you. They're going to come and… Promise me you're going to run at the first sign of danger."

"I –"

"I have to go now." Draco turned away. He wiped his elbow over his eyes. Bill reached out his hands, a few inches away from pulling Draco into his rightful place in his arms.

The noise of Apparation destroyed his last chance.

Draco was gone.

And this was probably the last time he had ever seen him. Or he saw him again too soon, with his eyes closed forever.

Bill stared and stared on the place, where Draco had given him one last chance to keep his promise. And he had failed. He had changed into a man who was unable to protect Draco, and that hurt more than any scars could.


End file.
